Fall Into You

This season is colorful for many reasons,

and the feeling can be sweet, savory, sour, and/or spicy, cozy and warm, cool and refreshing.

An October Reflection | Peaceful Motives

Silence truly is golden.

I've been racking my brain trying to decide what I wanted to write for October. I have old reflections I could revisit, themes I could pull forward, and plenty of things happening that I could talk about, but I keep coming back to this desire for silence, rest, and retreat. And perhaps that's exactly where this month's reflection needs to begin.

In September, we explored the energy of transition, that space between seasons where things are shifting, even when we haven't quite settled into what's next. We were moving toward another peak, another wave in the natural rhythm of life. Now here we are in October, fully immersed in autumn, and I'm finding it interesting that this particular peak doesn't necessarily feel like one of increased energy or outward activity.

Actually, for some of us, it feels quite the opposite.

When I think about autumn through the Maternal Lens, I see similarities to the third trimester of pregnancy. There's this interesting mixture of wanting to retreat and rest while also feeling the urgency to prepare for what's coming. The nesting instinct begins to emerge. There's a desire to gather what we need, make room, get things in order, and tend to anything that feels unfinished. Yet, at the very same time, the body may be asking for more rest. The energy needed to prepare for what's next is also the energy we need to preserve.

That can feel conflicting, especially when we interpret the desire to rest as a lack of motivation rather than another form of preparation.

Autumn has always had such a distinct sensory experience. The cooler air, changing colors, familiar aromas, and flavors that somehow feel comforting before we've even tasted them. There's something sweet and savory about this season, but depending on what we're experiencing in our own lives, it can also leave a sour taste. That feeling that there's too much to do, not enough time, or that something we've been nurturing is about to spoil if we don't tend to it.

And then there are all the different spices and ingredients we're adding to our personal recipes. Some bring warmth, others intensity, and what feels deliciously comforting to one person may be completely overstimulating to another. We're all working with different ingredients, different resources, and different needs as we continue birthing fuller expressions of ourselves.

Even the changing weather reminds us of how differently we experience the same season. For someone who found the summer heat exhausting, autumn may bring a renewed desire to get outside, move, connect, and experience more of life. Someone else may have spent the summer doing all of those things and now welcomes the shorter days and cooler temperatures as an invitation to retreat inward. Neither experience is more aligned with the season than the other.

Perhaps that's part of what makes autumn such an interesting time to practice BALANCE. There isn't one particular way we're supposed to feel or respond to a changing season. We have to become aware of where we are, allow ourselves to experience what is present, and listen closely enough to recognize what we actually need before deciding how to navigate what comes next.

And isn't that what so much of life continues to teach us?

What does autumn mean for us individually? What is falling away? What has already fallen, and what remains? Of the things that remain, what do we genuinely want to continue nurturing with the time, energy, and resources available to us? What deserves priority, and what might need to be released, not because it no longer matters, but because we simply cannot tend to everything at once?

Nature doesn't preserve everything through every season, and perhaps we aren't meant to either.

There's something to be said for recognizing when we're ready to harvest, when something needs a little more tending, and when it's time to leave things alone. Autumn allows room for all of these experiences. We can appreciate what has grown while acknowledging what has changed, and we can prepare for what's coming without constantly pushing ourselves to do more.

Because one thing we know for certain is that another season is coming.

So as we move through October, I invite you to pay attention to your own experience of fall. Notice what feels nourishing, what feels overwhelming, and where your energy naturally wants to go. There may be things calling for your attention and others quietly asking to be released. Give yourself an opportunity to listen before responding to either.

And somewhere between all the preparation, gathering, releasing, and resting, allow yourself to enjoy the season you're actually in.

Fall into you.